Giving in
by Creative Clutter
Summary: Carol's dreams continued to grow more and more disturbed, until her exhausted mind could take it no longer. She awoke with a start, heart racing and breath heaving. Carol is a strong woman, but even she has nightmares that make her cry. Eventual Carol/Daryl.


_**Author's Note:**_**So I don't really know what I'm doing with this, but I just really wanted to write something. This is the beginnings of a Carol/Daryl fic. It's set in season 2- Before they move into the house and after the Barn scene. **_**  
**_**Please don't hesitate to let me know what you think, enjoy :)**

It was a cooler night. Cool enough for blankets. Summer was drawing to a close and autumn was spreading its wings over America. Carol was asleep in her tent, but her sleep was pervaded with visions of horror. Her heart was gaining pace and her eyes darted around inside their sockets.

_At first, she was running. Running as fast as her legs would carry her. Her heart was pulsing hard causing her to lose breath quickly, but the adrenalin carried her on. It was dark; she couldn't see more than a few inches ahead. There was no knowing where she was going, or what she would run into, but her gut told her to keep running.  
Don't stop.  
She could hear crying. A woman sobbing. She was slowing down to look for her and stopped by a tree. A tree, on closer inspection, that was made of rotting flesh and oozing blood. A lifeless figure dangled from a long branch that reached out further than the rest. The figure was facing the opposite direction, but soon it began to rotate. It's head in the lead. Momentarily she found herself staring back into her very own lifeless eyes. The eyes of her own limp body, which she now stared into - and who stared back – were fresh with tears. Her tears were of blood. Another tear glided down her cheek, landing on the ground in front of them.  
It began to boil on the ground, expanding and distorting. Growing until it resembled a human. Carol now found herself staring into the eyes of her daughter. This was not the Sophia from the barn. This was the Sophia Carol had nurtured and loved. Sophia did not speak, she did not even smile. But Carol, with a shaky voice and fresh tears falling down her face, began to speak;  
"Sophia?"  
After cocking her head slightly, the little girl hurled herself at her mother, snarling and clawing like an animal.  
…The next minute Carol was in a room. An old, dusty, empty room. Her feet had ceased to move, like they were nailed to the hard wooden floor. She looked around for Sophia, but she was gone. Carol was locked inside a strange room... utterly alone.  
There was a fireplace that looked cold and unused. It was just like the one that they had always used in the winter back at the house with Ed and Sophia. On the mantle, some frameless photographs had appeared. Carol's feet began to guide her toward them.  
There was one of her and Ed on their wedding day. Carol had never smiled so vibrantly again after that day. She had never expected that she would become a victim of abuse or caught in an apocalyptic era.  
The next photo was of Sophia as a baby. She was so beautiful. Carol couldn't help but to cry uncontrollably as she remembered holding her baby in her arms. Everything she ever knew was gone. Completely and utterly gone. How was she to live on? What purpose did she have now that her Sophia was dead?  
The room around her began to creak, it was moving as if breathing. She looked up at the mirror above the mantel. It was not her own face that she found staring back at her, but Daryl's.  
There was a deafening screech and the photograph of her baby began to cripple in her palm.  
"No!" She wanted the photo, she need the photo._

_Everything was black. _

_Damn it. Make it stop. Carol crawled up into a ball, feeling more lonely and frightened than she had ever known she could feel.  
An unseen force began to pull at her, forcing her to stand again. She tried to resist, but she was far too weak.  
She was walking, steadily. And her surroundings were slowly becoming visible. Her stomach started to twist and churn as she comprehended the scene she found herself in.  
It was the destruction she had left behind in their old neighbourhood. Carcasses of her neighbours and friends blanketed the ground._

_Nothing moved and it was as though Carol was inside a photograph. _

As Carol re-lived the indescribably horrifying events she endured when the dead began to walk, she was unaware that she was in fact, safely asleep in her tent.

* * *

Sitting atop of the RV was Daryl. He had volunteered for watch that night. Although the night was colder than he had expected and he found himself all cosy and rugged up in his thick jacket and several layers of blankets. He couldn't remember feeling this comfortable since they slept in real beds at the CDC. Not long after midnight, he had drifted off to sleep.

Carol's dreams continued to grow more and more disturbed, until her exhausted mind could take it no longer. She awoke with a start, heart racing and breath heaving as though she had just been sprinting.

The next moment, she could feel warm tears streaming down her face as the terrifying dream she thought she had just escaped played over in her mind. Hyperventilating and sobbing, she hugged herself to her knees.

Absorbed in her state of distress, Carol hadn't noticed the silhouette approaching her tent until everything around her began to shake. She could hear muffled growls and hands clawing at her tent. Carol could no longer tell if she was awake or stuck in a never-ending nightmare.  
After a few forced gasps of air into her lungs, Carol managed to scream out.  
"Walker!"

Daryl stood suddenly, cursing himself for falling asleep on watch. Was that a cry he had heard? He couldn't be sure if he had dreamt it or not. His sleepy eyes were still blurry and as he glanced over at the camp, it took him a few moments to make out the walker. In a matter of seconds, he had leaped from the RV and began sprinting across towards the campsite, crossbow at the ready. Before Shane could pull his trigger, Daryl's crossbow had planted an arrow through the scull of Carol's attacker. The pointed head of the arrow was poking out from its left eyeball.

The whole group had gathered around with anxious expressions on their pale faces. They stood silently, too tired to formulate questions just yet.

Daryl, Shane and Rick stared in shock at the rotting corpse lying outside Carol's tent. The rest of the group closed in on the scene and Daryl quickly unzipped the opening to Carol's tent to find her hugging her knees. Her face as white as death. Daryl froze, suddenly aware that this was all his fault.  
Shane slipped in front of Daryl, gently taking Carol's hand and with an arm around her back, led her out of the tent. It took two people to help her stand and once the questions began to rain down, Carol's body refused to obey her command and upon seeing the corpse below them, her eyes rolled back in her head and the peaceful state of unconsciousness took over.

Shane caught her before she hit the ground and, kneeling on one knee, lay her across him, supporting her weight with his right knee. He tapped at her cold cheeks in an attempt to wake her.

"What the hell happened?" Andrea piped in.  
"Is she unwell? Perhaps someone should get Hershel." Lori's tone was firm, but at the same time laced with worry.  
"She was having a nightmare." Everyone turned, suddenly aware of Carl's presence. "I couldn't sleep" he explained, "I heard her moving around in her tent and crying out for Sophia. Then it stopped and I could hear crying." Carl's voice was tired. "I guess the Walker must have heard her too."

Daryl glanced down at Carol who was still strewn across Shane's knee. _Fuck. This was all his fault._

**_Author's Note: _So here's an interactive aspect; Where would YOU like to see this story go? **


End file.
